The Lieutenant and the Professor
by lovafair
Summary: AU. Lt. Mills investigates the murders of the magistrate, doctor, reverend, mayor and Sleepy Hollow's most influential citizen. M rating for language and later chapters as Ichabbie is endgame. This is my first fanfic; all reviews are welcome.
1. Chapter 1

"Lieutenant Mills? The doctor will see you now." The receptionist's chipper voice grated on Abbie's nerves. Just like anything connected with Dr. Hill. Thankfully, this was her last visit as Abbie fully expected to be cleared to return to duty. Finally. This had been the longest two months of her life.

"Lieutenant?"

With a curt nod, Abbie stood and followed the receptionist to the office.

"Good afternoon Abbie." Dr. Hill greeted her with the practiced kindness shrinks wore like second skins.

"Dr. Hill" Abbie acknowledged as she walked past the doctor to sit in front of the desk. The slight raising of her eyebrows was the only indication that Dr. Hill was surprised by Abbie's seating choice. She followed the Lieutenant and took her seat behind the desk.

"How have things been since your last visit?" Dr. Hill asked.

Abbie cut right to the chase.

"You need to clear me to return to work."

Dr. Hill offered her a small smile. The sessions usually started this way. Abigail Mills was if nothing else, quite tenacious. Something the doctor respected her for tremendously.

"Lieutenant, I can understand it's been frustrating, but…"

"Yes," Abbie interrupted. "It has been frustrating; waiting for you to figure out that having me sit on my ass for six weeks is not the answer. I know you think it's helpful, but it isn't."

"Why do you suppose that is Lieutenant?"

Abbie checked the impulse to roll her eyes. She wasn't there for a session and she'd be damned if she let Dr. Hill lure her into one.

"You know," Abbie began, changing tactics. "One of the benefits of free time is using it to investigate. Without my work to distract me, I've been able to dig up quite a few things."

Dr. Hill only showed mild interest in the statement.

"Interesting, Lieutenant. What sort of things have you been investigating?"

"Oh things like deliberately keeping someone out of work simply because their boss requested it."

"Yes," she said responded to the doctor's startled gaze.

"I know Captain Irving asked for your assistance in ensuring I remain on leave. And while I appreciate the sentiment, I'm ready to go back to work. So I'll put it to you this way, you can release me for active duty effective immediately, or I can just go to the board and see what they think."

"I doubt the board would be interested in conjecture Lieutenant." Dr. Hill's tight smile giving away her distress.

"Yeah, you're probably right about that. Lucky for me I have a witness to the conversation. I'm sure they would be interested in that."

Abbie strode through the precinct, ignoring the sudden change in atmosphere her arrival caused. Her vision had narrowed to the Sheriff's office, its door suddenly swinging open and an irate Captain Irving staring daggers into her.

"Mills, what the hell do you think you're doing here?" he barked.

"I'm dropping off the papers that clear me for active duty. But I guess you've already heard the good news?" Abbie quipped as she held out the envelope.

"In my office, now. And the rest of you fish wives, get back to work. " He groused before slamming the office door shut.

"Mills, I'm not reinstating you." He declared flatly.

"What! Why not?" Abbie asked, trying her best to rein in her fraying temper. "How much longer do you think I'm just going to lay around while this killer is on the loose? You waiting for another body? Corbin and the doctor weren't enough?" Seeing Irving bristle, she dialed in back a bit.

"I'm the best investigator in this department. Put me back to work, I can catch this guy." She said imploringly.

"It won't work, it's too personal for you." Irving gritted out.

"It'll work, because it's my job to make sure it does. I am good at what I do; I need you to let me do it." Her eyes bored into his. He just had to let her back on, he just had to.

"Goddamit Mills, if you do this and anything happens.." he started

"Hey, if I start cracking up, I'll come in here and put my badge and gun on your desk myself."

Irving was sure that Mills was trying to give him an ulcer. She was brilliant, and stubborn as hell. He was hoping she would see the time off as a reprieve. In his opinion, the SHPD depended a little too much on Lieutenant Abbie Mills. That kind of pressure would be too much for most folks, but Mills seemed to excel in carrying the weight of an entire department on her shoulders.

He still remembered that night at the stables, her quiet grief while kneeling beside the corpse frightening. How many officers could endure a crime scene where the decapitated victim was one of their own, the Sheriff? A man Mills considered a father. He had sent more than one officer home that night, as the gruesome scene was too much for them to endure.

But not Mills. Meticulously, she tasked the remaining officers and crime scene workers with the job of documenting the crime scene, collecting evidence. The things that everyone else was too overwhelmed to do, she simply did herself. The outline of the body, collecting tissue samples, keeping officers from contaminating the crime scene in their grief.

Dawn had long since come and gone before the crime scene was completely processed. Mills was insistent every fiber, every print, anything at all that could be considered evidence was properly documented, recorded and bagged.

When there was nothing else left to do there, she was the one that attempted to track down the whereabouts of Corbin's son. Harangued the Marines, the Marines' for God's sake, as she tried to reach out to August's estranged son. The Marines remained stubbornly mum about Joe Corbin. So she took care of everything. Easy enough since Corbin had made her executor of his estate. He had left everything of true importance to her- his cabin, his books and artifacts, the restored 1974 International Travelall.

She bore through all of it. Without complaint, the tears or even glassy eyes that most in the department sported in the days and weeks after Corbin's death. Miraculously, those first few days, she remained the stoic Lieutenant Mills they had all become accustomed to. Counted on. Truly, Irving had put her on administrative leave as much for his own sake as hers.

How would it look for the man designated as successor to be in less control than the Lieutenant? How could Mills be anything other than emotionally compromised considering the situation? How could he give her the time she needed to grieve the loss of her father, her mentor, a lifeline without making her seem weak in the eyes of the others?

Putting her on administrative leave looked like the God send it was. It was forced; no one could say she cracked under the pressure. She could take her time to process what he could only assume was a tumult of emotions without the prying and unforgiving eyes of the department. He wasn't stupid; he knew there were officers that would have tried to take advantage to press their position, but he would not allow it. She deserved that; she had earned that.

The only thing he hadn't counted on was Abbie also perceiving it as weakness. Her determination to prove she was strong, capable, that she could handle the burden.

Captain Irving let out a long suffering sigh. She was going to be the death of him.

"You're back in."


	2. Chapter 2

On the inside, Abbie was screaming with delight. Outwardly, she gave Captain Irving a curt nod. Taking the notepad and pen out of the envelope before handing it to Captain Irving, she sat in front of his desk.

"Tell me what you've got so far." Her no-nonsense tone giving the Captain another measure of relief. It would be okay. She would figure out who was behind these murders, bring them to justice without compromising her sanity.

Irving rounded his desk and stabbed a button on his phone.

"Morales, get in here. And bring Brooks. "

At her unspoken question, he simply replied, "They were the best we had, all things considered."

Her ex swaggered in. There was no other way to describe it. Luke Morales was handsome, arrogant and ok at his job. Abbie could give him some credit, only some. Often, his ego rendered him incapable of being objective.

Brooks, he was a cop after her own heart. Truly a do-gooder, he joined the force to "make a difference"- his words, not hers. He was deliberate and judicious; a nice contrast to the firecracker character of Morales.

She was not unaware of the regard that both men had for her. It was not important right now. Those feelings would simply have to take a back burner considering the gravity of the unresolved cases on their plate.

"Hey Mills, Cap decided to dust you off huh?" Morales baited, surveying his former girlfriend warily. She looked the same as always, confident, serene and inquisitive. For the past couple of months though, he had enjoyed being the big fish in the small pond. He knew her presence now signaled an end to that. And he wasn't quite ready to give that up.

"Figured you'd still be too busy crying over Corbin." The words were out before he could stop them. Brooks and Irving both shot him aggravated looks, only Abbie seemed unperturbed by his statement.

"Well, looks like you're wrong, as usual." The comment was biting, even if she was giving him one of her most tepid smiles. She was one of the few women that could put him off is game. He was annoyed that hadn't changed in the time he had seen her.

"You look great Abbie," Brooks interjected into the awkward silence. "I'm glad you're back" It was an understatement. Day in and day out of working was nothing without seeing the flash of her smile, her quick wit. She was all things to Andy Brooks and he had missed her sorely.

"Thanks Brooks, I'm glad to know that someone noticed I was gone." She smiled at him warmly.

"Now, what have you guys found so far?"

Abbie listened for the next twenty minutes with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief as Morales and Brooks meandered through the details of their investigation. Of all the hapless, bumbling…

She ruthlessly cut off that stream of thought. They were investigating a murder, not creating a shopping list. Even though she was ready to shake the pair of them, being mad would not do any good. Why did everything seem so haphazard? She cut a biting glance at Irving, who had the good grace to seem sheepish.

"Well guys, looks like there are some solid leads worth following up on. And, I think there is an opportunity to find out a little more with the second crime scene. Brooks, have the coroner's report for both victims on my desk in the next hour. Morales, I want to see every piece of evidence collected from the second crime scene. Don't leave until you get it all to me " Both the detective and officer nodded. It was obvious Lieutenant Mills was back and taking over their investigation.

"Time's wasting, get going guys." Abbie prodded. Both men sprung from the chairs, nodded to the Captain before leaving the office quickly.

"Mills…" Irving began.

"I need my badge and my gun." Abbie interrupted, knowing it was useless to point out the obvious.

Hours later, Abbie winced as the pain radiated up her back. A natural consequence for spending the past 5 hours hunched over her desk, pouring over evidence. Not nearly enough in her estimation. The second crime scene had not been processed as thoroughly as she would have liked. She felt as though there were some things missing.

Still, it was no denying the same perpetrator had committed both crimes. The prints of the horse hooves were identical. As was the fact both of the victims were beheaded, wounds cauterized immediately. A clean kill, no blood spatter, no trail of what end the heads may have come to.

Abbie blew out a frustrated breath. With no witnesses, no connection between the victims, it seemed almost impossible to determine any motive to the murders. There was something connecting them, Abbie could feel it. She just needed to figure out what.

Her reverie was interrupted by the maniacal laughter in her ear.

"You'll never catch him! More are coming, more are coming!" The singsong voice was disturbing.

Abbie gave the suspect a gentle nudge, in his chest, with her elbow in order to move him off of her.

"Sorry, Lieutenant!" Office Adams called out as he hauled the suspect away from her. "This full moon is bringing out all the crazies tonight. We're getting full; we'll have to send some over to Tarrytown."

Abbie nodded absently, the man's words sounding more as a warning than the crazed musings of someone under the effects of the moon.

The effects of the full moon.

In a burst of motion, Abbie flipped through the reports that littered her desk. At the same time, she pulled up the web on her desktop.

Shit, shit! She thought, her eyes swerving to her desk calendar. The 3rd full moon was tonight. Not that she hadn't thought about it, but dammit.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she called Captain Irving. Agitated, she waited for him to pick up.

"Irving" his cool, authoritative tone, did little to settle her.

"Captain, someone else is going to die tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Trigger warnings for touching on mental health issues (Abbie's mom) and some graphic detail regarding a corpse. Please take care and be advised when reading. I hope the pace isn't too frustrating. Setting up an AU is daunting, but I'm getting there. As always, I encourage feedback of all kinds. My apologies for typos, I don't have a Beta. **

Lieutenant Mills surveyed the crime scene with a practiced eye. She was searching for clues, anything that would stand out and give her an idea of the serial killer that was terrorizing Sleepy Hollow.

Her gaze fell on the body of Reverend Shaick. His fingers clutched a silver cross to his chest.

For all the good that did, Abbie thought sourly before she could stop herself. The man was lying dead in the midst of what was considered hallowed ground; his only defense not enough to save him. She sighed, frustration lacing its tone.

After her call to Irving, during which she had to admit she couldn't tell him who the victim was, when or where the next crime would occur, she had tried to glean as much of a connection between Corbin and Dr. Lancaster.

She couldn't substantiate to what degree, but there was no doubt that Corbin and Lancaster were acquaintances. Phone and bank records confirmed that the two spoke and met regularly.

Why? It was the question that stampeded through her mind all night long. Along with how, what and who.

Why did Lancaster and Corbin know each other? What did they know?

Why were they victims? How were they chosen?

Who would have cause to kill them? Why during full moons?

The questions and elusive answers drove Abbie nuts until the call that came in shortly after midnight, indicating there was a corpse in the cemetery.

Just as with the previous victims, the lack of spatter, of any blood, confirmed the wound was inflicted and cauterized in a single action. The clean cut to the vertebrae indicative of an extremely sharp blade.

"What kind of weapon could do this?" Abbie wondered aloud as she knelt next to the body of the Reverend Shaick as she shined her flashlight on the neck wound.

"Something very hot considering the condition of the body. Sharp or precise too to slice through flesh and bone," came the matter of fact reply to her question.

Abbie looked up into the stoic face of the coroner.

"Dr. Reyes," she replied evenly. Another doctor that made Abbie wary.

Leena Reyes and Abbie went way back. According to Leena, she had been friends with Abbie's mother. Abbie thought the jury was still out on that one. She wasn't certain that friends had friends committed. That they left two young girls to fend for themselves in foster care while their mother went through the unending cycle of institutionalization and periods of lucidity. All in the best interest of Lori and the girls of course.

Her bitter musings must have reflected a least a bit on her face because the coroner gave her a rueful smile.

"Good morning Lieutenant," Dr. Reyes responded. "It's good to see you back to work again."

Since Abbie couldn't exactly return the sentiments, she simply nodded her acknowledgement.

"I'll leave you to it. I'll have someone come by later for the report." Abbie began to walk away, needing the space that she was giving Dr. Reyes to work.

"Mills," Reyes called out to her, waiting for Abbie to turn in her direction.

"I'll get on this immediately. Stop by my office in the afternoon and we can discuss what I've found."

The challenge was obvious. Since Reyes had returned to work in the Coroner's office, she and Abbie had kept the dance of avoiding direct contact as much as possible. That was obviously at an end.

Abbie held the other woman's gaze for a long moment before nodding.

"Yeah, it's time."

She heard her name being called as she walked away from Reyes. Brooks was walking towards her, waving his arm in a bid to get her attention.

"Brooks, what you got for me?"

"Not much difference from the other two crime scenes. No witnesses, hoof prints, burnt brush…"

"Brooks, tell me you did not chase me down to tell me stuff I already know." Abbie stopped mid stride to glare at Brooks.

"Yes ma'am, I mean no ma'am, I mean, uh…" It was difficult to be anything other than flustered when the Lieutenant was staring at him like that. Even though she was a tiny thing, just barely above five feet, she could be intimidating.

But even when she turned those warm brown eyes towards him in irritation, it strangely felt like a caress. It made Andy Brooks happy; Abigail Mills made Andy Brooks happy. Standing in the midst of murder and decay, the sense of happiness and peace she brought to him washed over him in waves.

"Brooks?" Abbie glanced at the Officer staring at her in a daze. "You ok?"

He looked a bit goofy. It reminded her of a cartoon character that just had an anvil dropped on him.

"How long have you been on duty today?" She asked curiously.

"What?" Brooks answered, blushing furiously at being caught mooning over his crush.

"You ok? Do you need a minute?"

"No, I was just remembering…" Brooks cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Morales picked up a guy staying at the parish house. They're headed to the precinct so he can get a statement."

"What do we know about him?"

"Practically nothing, some kind of professor I think. By the time they get to the station, we should have run a full background."

Abbie nodded, thinking for the not the first time today, this wasn't exactly how she anticipated it would be returning to work. Three murders, an unknown assailant on horseback and the discovery that Corbin had obviously been keeping secrets. She needed to regroup.

She tossed a tired smile to Brooks. "It's obvious you're exhausted. Head home and get some rest. I'll need you later today. There are a lot of horse farms in the area, and I'm going to need you to visit every one of them to try and figure out where this horse of ours belongs. I'm heading back to the station."

"Yes ma'am." Brooks went bounding off, leaving Abbie shaking her head in his wake.

It was just after three in the morning when she found herself walking back through the station. It was quiet now; the 'full moon' ruckus caused by earlier suspects a distant memory. Her thoughts flickered briefly to the man that had chanted in her ear.

"You'll never catch him! More are coming, more are coming!"

The taunt was well aimed. Over the course of her young life, there had been many things that Abbie couldn't "catch". Her mother's mental illness, losing her sister to the same system, and now even Corbin. Gaping wounds that had yet to heal.

She hadn't been able to protect them, the people who mattered most to her. They had been torn from her life, because of weakness and fear.

But not this time, she swore. Not this time.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mills." The tone of Irving's voice was enough to break her out of her reverie. It sounded cautious, as if he knew he was interrupting her.

"I need caffeine," she stated, rolling her shoulders as she straightened.

"Goetz made some coffee before he left." Irving replied, choosing not to comment on the mood he found her in. It was her first day back and she had just supervised another homicide scene. He was willing to give her a break.

Abbie gave an unladylike snort. "Goetz should never be allowed to make coffee. He was the reason the phrase 'can't boil water' was invented. I'll make a new pot. How did Morales's interview go?"

It was Irving's turn to snort. "Awful. He's so used to dealing with knuckleheads; he has no idea how to deal with normal folks. Not that the Professor is what I'd refer to as normal. If this wasn't a serious investigation, I'd find this dude trampling Morales's ego funny as hell. Shit, I still do. But right now, I need him to give up whatever he knows about the Reverend. So that means I need you to talk to him." He slid a manila folder over to her.

Abbie picked it up without hesitation and flipped it open.

Doctor Ichabod Crane, scholar of Religious History.

Other than the weird first name, his file didn't reveal anything extraordinary. A visiting Oxford professor to Yale, teaching early American religious history. He was currently on sabbatical, which explained his presence in Sleepy Hollow.

What was he researching or hoping to learn from the Reverend Schaick? Would it tie back to Corbin or Lancaster? Could he shed light on those relationships?

Any way Abbie looked at it, Ichabod Crane seemed like the break to her investigation that she needed.

She gave a decisive nod, foregoing the coffee as she strode towards the interrogation rooms.

"Time for a chat with the professor"

Morales was having a time of it. This English bastard, with his smug answers and his damn eyebrows was starting to get to him. What he wouldn't give to disconnect the cameras and let his fists ask the questions. Bet Dr. English Lit wouldn't be so smart then.

He exhaled loudly through his nose before pinning the man with a scowl.

"Mr. Crane, I'm trying to be patient here, but I gotta say you're making it very difficult. No one is accusing you of anything right now; we're just trying to get the facts straight. So I need you to tell me everything."

The tall man currently seated across from Detective Morales scoffed his overtures. Waving one of his rather large hands, he dismissed Morales's statements entirely.

"Trying to get your facts straight? Hardly. Most likely it is your hope that I will incriminate myself in some way. You said as much on the ride over to the station. I'm paraphrasing, so forgive me for not using your exact turn of phrase, but I seem to remember you saying it was entirely too much of a coincidence that the Reverend should meet his untimely end as I had just shown up in town."

Mr. Crane's glacial green eyes bore into the Detective, Crane's mouth twitching to prevent the triumphant smile as he watched Morales blanch at his observation.

"Although, I will admit it was rather indelicate of me to eavesdrop on what you presumed to be a private conversation between you and your officer. However, in my defense, our approximation to one another was quite acute and the radio, although reasonably turned up, was not quite at the level to drown out the entirety of your conversation."

By this time, full color and then some had returned to Morale's face. The embarrassment at his blunder in being overheard had apparently been compounded by Crane understanding the folly of it.

Unsurprisingly, Morales sprang from his chair. Crane merely expelled a rather exasperated breath as he gazed at the man in irritation. Truly, if this was the merit of the Sleepy Hollow's polices, he feared that the murderer of the Reverend Schaick would never be discovered. Not that they had begun to understand what they were dealing with. Still, the other man's dramatics were becoming quite cumbersome.

"Look Crane, I've had enough of your shit! If you think you have the balls, then…l will-"

"Detective!" A voice rang out behind Crane. It was feminine, as authoritative as it was soft.

"Irving's asking for you. He's in his office waiting." Husky and compelling. Crane wanted to turn to see its owner, but felt it was imperative to keep his eyes on Morales.

The detective seemed to be struggling for control. There was some undercurrent between him and the owner of that voice. The look of the detective's face indicated as much.

"I'm in the middle of an interview, tell Captain I'll be there as soon as I finish." The detective gritted out as his gaze skittered towards Crane.

"No Morales, you'll tell the Captain yourself when you go to his office like I just ordered you to." came the crisp reply.

_Oh_. Crane tried to restrain himself, truly. But it was no way to prevent his eyebrow from raising and the smug little smile as he met Detective Morales's stare. It was almost as if he could see the steam coming out of the Detective's ear. The little smile turned into a full blown grin as Morales straightened away from the table and headed towards the door.

"Yes Lieutenant." He snarled as he stalked past her out of the room.

Abbie sighed silently, willing herself into a calmness she didn't feel. When this was done, she was going to rip Morales a new asshole. That mental note made, she focused on the man sitting at the table.

Well, as much of him as she could see with his back to her. What the hell was Morales thinking? Why was he sitting with his back to the window? If she had really wanted to observe the interview, it would have been hard as hell without being able to see the witness.

Deal with that later. Get back on track Abbie, she thought sternly. She closed the door softly and turned to address her witness.

"Professor Crane, let me apologize…"

"You!"


	5. Chapter 5

"You!"

Startled, she looked up at the man as he exploded out of the chair. One hand went to her holster; the other out in supplication. It was a reflex borne out of years of experience.

"Everything ok Professor?" she asked cautiously as she watched him pace, arms folded behind his back.

Were things alright? He would have laughed at the very idea if there was still breath in his body. Indeed, all things in the world had suddenly aligned in his favor! God's countenance shone on him and him alone; Ichabod found himself overwhelmed with the blessing he had just been bestowed.

Here they stood together, finally! She looked as he has seen her so many times; those beguiling doe eyes inquisitive, yet wary. A moue highlighting the beauty of her perfectly formed lips.

Her warm brown skin glowed with vitality only something of flesh and blood could achieve. He took in her straightened hair, which he knew curled in a most adorable way in its natural state.

Her gentle curves, hugged tenderly by the blouse and jeans she wore. _Dear God_. Only the stranglehold he kept his hands in behind his back prevented him from placing her on the table and paying homage to her form.

She was altogether a beautiful, wonderful creature. This slip of a thing, staring at him as if he was quite mad. He stopped pacing and continued to look his fill at her.

"Professor? Are. You. Ok?" she asked again, taking care to enunciate each word as if he might have been hard of hearing.

"I am quite well. I assure you," he replied. In an attempt to reestablish some calm, he drew a sharp breath. His knees nearly buckled as he inhaled the subtle fragrances of ylang ylang and patchouli that she wore. Ichabod closed his eyes and clenched his jaw for the briefest of moments against the wave of longing that rose within him.

"You seem…agitated," she observed as she lowered her outstretched hand. Her other still rested on her unsnapped holster.

Get a hold of yourself man! Ichabod chastised himself sternly. This was no proper beginning for their association. She does not know you yet; having kittens in front of her will hardly garner her favor. He rallied and gave her his most charming smile.

"Ah, yes! Well, I will admit that you startled me a bit." At her look of patent disbelief, he hastened to give her a plausible explanation.

"I thought you had gone out with the Detective." He smiled wanly at her. Not the best thinking on his toes, but it would have to do. Seeing her had rendered him stupid. If he was able to get out of the room without her thinking him either crazy or an imbecile, he would consider himself a lucky man indeed.

Ok, this is weird, Abbie mused. He kept staring at her strangely. She couldn't put her finger on exactly how, but she got the distinct impression that he was happy to see her. Which couldn't be right at all, because how can you be happy to see someone you've never met?

And she would have remembered meeting him. He was very tall; he had at least a foot on her. His brunette hair was swept into a rather untidy man bun at the back of his head, the strands and his short clipped beard framed a rather aristocratic looking face. His green eyes had lost some of the dreamy quality from the past few moments, but they remained beautiful and expressive nonetheless.

Whoa, Earth to Abbie, she thought to herself. What the hell was she doing thinking about how he looked? Expressive eyes? Aristocratic face? He's a witness in a murder investigation for God's sake. Maybe she shouldn't have skipped that cup of coffee. Abbie shook her head as if to clear it.

"Let's start again. I'm Lieutenant Abbie Mills." She stuck out her hand and could have sworn his eyes lit up. Almost reverently, he cradled her small hand in both his large ones and brought them to his chest.

"I am most pleased to meet you Lieutenant Abigail Mills." He replied while gazing intently into her eyes. Her own eyes widened in response to the feel of his warm hands and the way he was staring at her. It felt- right. No, no, no, she chided herself as panic at her last thought set in. This was not right. It was wrong; very, very wrong.

She hastily pulled her hand from his. She stepped back to get some distance and perspective. This was getting weirder by the minute. She should be questioning him, not letting him do…whatever it was he was just doing. At this rate, her badge would be on the Captain's desk by the time the sun came up.

Focus girl, focus. Abbie scolded herself and retreated to the other side of the table. And tried to begin-again. When she glanced over at him, his pleased, smug expression helped her focus on the reality of their situation. She was an officer investigating a homicide. A homicide he may or may not be a material witness to. She needed to know what he knew. Needed to know it and get him out of here before anything else happened.

"I know it's been a long night and I'll try not to take up too much more of your time. I think you may have information that could help us try to figure out what happened tonight." She stated briskly as she sat. She motioned for him to take the chair opposite her own.

At his raised eyebrow, she held up her hand. "Not because I think you are a suspect. I just think that what you may have been working on with the Reverend could be a clue to what's happening."

"Indeed Lieutenant?" He regarded her thoughtfully as he took a seat. She had retreated behind her professional facade. Although it made him slightly disheartened, he reminded himself that there was time. "Of course, I shall endeavor to help you as best I can. Where shall we begin?"

Relieved she was back on track, she opened her notebook and perused the observations she had already jotted down.

"How do you know Reverend Schaick?"

"In truth, we did not know one another. We had only corresponded a few times before I arrived in Sleepy Hollow."

"Corresponded about what?"

"Religious texts. I am a scholar of religious studies. Right now, I'm researching Christianity in early Colonial America." He smiled warmly at her when she dared to meet his gaze.

She glanced back at the notebook, her gaze slightly unfocused.

"How did you find each other?"

"Abraham Van Brunt put us in contact with one another." Abbie's ears perked up at that bit of info. The Professor knew the Mayor's son?

"How do you know Mr. Van Brunt?" she didn't try to hide her interest in his answer.

"Old school chums. We studied at Eton together."

"Eton? As in Eton College in England?"

"Indeed. When I told him about my research, he suggested I contact the Reverend. Apparently Sleepy Hollow has a wealth of historical religious documents from the Colonial period. " He replied easily.

She continued to ask questions; he obliged her by answering. After only a few minutes of this he noticed her drooping posture and her heavy eyes.

It was clear she was utterly exhausted. And though her tenacity was one of her many admiral qualities, her lack of self-care was not. He scowled fiercely as he wondered about her acquaintances. That they would allow her to wear herself down did not sit well with him at all.

"Lieutenant, I apologize for my rudeness, but could we continue this interview at another time?" He regretted talking over her, but it was necessary. Her comfort and well-being were things he would not ignore, even if others chose to do so.

"Professor, there are just a few more things I would like to ask. If we could-" She responded doggedly.

He held a single index finger up to interrupt her. She reared back as though he had struck her. She looked adorably irate at the gesture. His mouth twitched in response, struggling not to issue a smile.

"Today's events coupled with my own exhaustion have me out of sorts. I mean to be of help, but I really must insist on resting before we continue."

Abbie glared at his snobbish finger and the stubborn set to his jaw. He meant to have his way, which meant that she couldn't have hers. She wanted to get through the rest of his interview and send the enigmatic Professor Crane on about his business.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: If anyone would care to be a Beta, I would be grateful. I debated about this chapter and decided to release it as I wrote it. As always, I appreciate any feedback. LVF**

"Where would you like me to drop you off?" Abbie asked as politely as lack of sleep and frustration would allow. It aggravated her to no end that he had decided to cut their interview short. And there was nothing she could do about it. She could find nothing that would mark him as anyone other than a passing acquaintance of the deceased, which meant she couldn't force him to finish answering her questions. That meant that her foreseeable future might include seeing Professor Crane again depending on what her investigation turned up.

Crane was a loose end. She didn't like loose ends. They were messy and convoluted.

Abbie lived a life based on compartments. Everything had an order, relevance, a place where it fit. And Professor Crane? He did not fit. Or maybe he did? But where? It was strange and exciting. No. NO. It was unsettling. She meant unsettling. Abbie was anxious to order him properly so she could move on.

Just because the formal interview was over did not mean that she wouldn't be able to get more information from him. Taking him to wherever he was staying would afford her some additional time with him. A few questions would help determine if he could be eliminated from the scope of her investigation.

"Professor, where are you staying?" she asked again when he did not answer her immediately.

Ichabod could fairly see the wheels turning inside that intelligent mind. And though he would readily indulge her in most anything she asked, he really needed to get her to bed. She needed rest.

"Forgive my saying so, but I rather think it's I who should be dropping you home. You seem out of sorts to be driving about this time of the morning."

"Is that so?" she replied irritably, her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened. "Well, I appreciate your _concern_ Professor, but I'm definitely alert and more than capable of driving. But you know what; you want to find another way home, no problem. Have a goodnight, make sure you leave a way for us to contact you in case we have any more questions." She slammed her notebook shut and was starting to rise.

It happened before he could stop himself. His hand shot out to gently grasp her wrist and stay her leaving. As she looked up at him with shocked anger, he raised both hands and smiled apologetically.

"Lieutenant, I am sorry. In no way did I mean to imply you were not capable. It's just that I could not help but notice your exhaustion. It is concern for your safety that caused my remarks, not some misplaced belief that you are lacking in any way." Ichabod inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as his response appeared to mollify her.

He again had to remind himself of his circumstances. Although he knew a great deal of her, he did not know the woman, Abigail Mills. What riled her, what made her laugh, what aroused her. All things he would know in time, but he would have to take his time.

He was doing it again, Abbie mused. The warm regard in his eyes as he looked at her was as confusing as it was intriguing. And made it hard to stay pissed off at what he said earlier.

"Well Professor, I'll admit it has been a long day." It was a close to a concession as she would make.

"There's a diner a couple of blocks from here. Let's get some coffee, stay long enough for it to kick in and I'll drop you off."

If Maggie thought Lieutenant Abbie Mills sitting in her diner with the tall, handsome British man was strange, she gave no indication. She brought the two cups of coffee and menus to the pair and her gaze lingered just a bit longer on the newcomer.

"Welcome to town," she stated simply when their eyes met. Ichabod looked at her quizzically, unsure what to make of her comment. He inclined his head, murmured his thanks and then focused his attention back to Abbie.

"Quaint little village," he murmured as he sipped his black coffee. He watched as she added liberal doses of cream and sugar to hers.

"You don't like coffee?" he asked, his eyebrow quirked in disbelief.

She peeked at him through her lashes; a faint blush covered her cheeks.

"Busted," she admitted ruefully. "It's unavoidable when you're a cop, so I sort of got used to it."

"I hardly think you are used to it. Not with all that cream and sugar." He said laughingly. She rewarded him with a small smile.

"So, what do you recommend?" He pointed to the menu.

"Oh, um….everything here is really good. I thought we were just having coffee though?"

"Yes, that was my intention. Now that I'm here, I realize I'm a bit peckish. Of course, it would be a further imposition on your time. Forgive me, Lieutenant. " He stared at the menu longingly

"Don't worry about it. I've kept you up half the night; the least I can do is let you eat." She insisted, waving away any objections.

Fifteen minutes later, Maggie brought two of the largest breakfast platters that Abbie had ever seen. Poached eggs, sausages, bacon, hash browns and toast vied for space on his plates.

The delight swimming in his eyes as Ichabod surveyed his bounty was enough to make Abbie chuckle. He smiled at her as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Not quite a fry up, but it'll do quite nicely. Are you sure you won't join me?" He stared at the two pieces of toast she had in consternation.

"Thanks, but no, you knock yourself out." She had only ordered the toast to be polite. Abbie hadn't wanted him to feel weird eating alone.

She didn't need to worry. He ate with gusto and seemed totally oblivious to her growing awe at what appeared to be his voracious appetite.

He continued to offer her a portion of his meal, even as he encouraged her to at least eat her toast.

"You've had 2 cups of coffee on an empty stomach. Do try to eat a bit; it will not do for you to become jittery." He implored when her food continued to sit untouched on her plate.

"I've made you uncomfortable." He observed as she stirred her cooled coffee.

"Why do you say that?" she wondered, frowning slightly.

Ichabod waved his hand towards his now empty plates.

"It didn't make me uncomfortable, but I did get full just looking at all of it." Abbie replied honestly.

"Professor, are you always so observant?" she asked suddenly. It seemed to her that Professor Crane noticed things about her that most people did not. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"I'm afraid so Lieutenant. I have always been, even as a child. My time in Iraq made what was only an inclination a necessity."

"You taught in Iraq?" Abbie asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"No Lieutenant, I was deployed in Iraq." He didn't think it was possible for her eyes to grow any wider.

"Retired Captain," he replied to her unspoken question.

"Well that at least explains the appetite." She shot back wryly. Ichabod laughed, the rich baritone made her grin. It also drew Maggie's eye as she wiped the counter down.

Maggie might be a good cook, but Ichabod felt there was something strange about her. Whatever else he and his Lieutenant discussed, it would be out of her earshot.

"That was delicious, shall we go?" He fished two twenty dollar bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the table.

Abbie wasn't sure what happened. They were talking and smiling and then he had hustled her out of the diner as if he couldn't wait to be rid of her. They walked quickly; or rather she did, as she worked to keep up with his long stride.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. I appreciate your feedback! Please read and review. Trigger warnings for this chapter: insensitive comments concerning mental health. **

His contemplative mood continued as they drove in silence. Something was amiss in Sleepy Hollow. Aside of course from the whole decapitation thing with the Reverend; there something else.

Malevolence. Ichabod couldn't quite put his finger on it at the diner but it was quite clear to him now. That was the feeling he got from Maggie at the diner. In truth, that was hardly the first time he had encountered it. The man at the gas station, the church clerk, even Brom's butler.

He cursed inwardly. He had gotten soft. That was the only explanation for why he hadn't noticed sooner. His scholarly pursuits had been useful and had gone a long way in repairing the relationship with his parents, but there were limits to their usefulness.

"Something wrong Professor? You got kinda quiet on me." Abbie glanced over at Crane and then returned her focus to the road.

They were on the way to the Van Brunt estate. It was where Ichabod was staying while in town. He hadn't said a word since they had left the diner. He had opened her door and ensured she was buckled in before getting in on the passenger side of the SUV.

Even though she rolled her eyes and shook her head, her insides fluttered just a little at his gallantry.

She was in danger. The thought had taken root at the diner and had been growing steadily. Whether or not it was rational, he would not ignore it. Somehow he doubted that she would appreciate his sentiments.

Crane sighed heavily as he turned to her. "I've been terribly inconsiderate of you and I'm a bit ashamed of myself Lieutenant." He replied. "You need rest, yet here you are accompanying me during a meal and chauffeuring me about."

"Stop beating yourself up Professor. You didn't force me to do anything. The diner was my suggestion, remember? And I appreciate your concern, but I've managed without it these past 26 years. And I'll manage the next 26 and then some after you leave. No big deal, ok?" Abbie softened her rebuke with a smile in his direction.

Ichabod wisely refrained from letting her know how ridiculous her statement was. The only place he intended to be for the next 26 years and then some was by her side. He merely inclined his head.

"As you wish, Lieutenant." He redirected his gaze to the passenger window.

Well, hell. Now he was pissed off and she didn't have any idea why. If he wanted to sit in silence, fuck it. She'd let him stew until they got there.

But her eyes strayed to him often. Abbie would be lying if she didn't admit that Ichabod Crane was-intriguing. A soldier and a scholar. A rich guy that loved diner food. Snobby, yet warm. She wondered what else lay underneath his polished exterior.

"Lieutenant?"

"Hm?"

"I believe it customary even for Americans to drive in one lane or the other not either" Crane mused idly.

Shit! Abbie snapped out of her wayward thoughts as she realized that she was driving in the middle of the road. She was glad the Professor could not see her cheeks darken in embarrassment.

"It's not unheard of, especially in rural areas." She hoped she sounded nonchalant as she smoothly moved back into the proper lane.

"Hmm…I was wondering if perhaps you might be finally succumbing to your exhaustion."

"Crane.." she replied in warning.

"Not to worry Lieutenant. My faith in your abilities remains unflappable." He gave her a devilish smile.

"Helped of course by your renewed focus on the road." He had not missed, nor mistaken the curious looks she had been giving him. It soothed his ego, that on at least some level, Abigail Mills was taken with him as well.

A short while later, they pulled up in front of the Van Brunt's country home. It was Abbie's first time being there and she was duly impressed. It looked like something out of one of those angsty English novels. The scale of everything meant to be grandiose and she assumed intimidating.

"Wow, some digs." She murmured and whistled lowly. Ichabod shot her an amused glance out the corner of his eyes.

"What?" She was all wide eyes and innocence. He didn't buy it for a moment.

"I confess, it does seem a bit pretentious." He began. "But it has many comforts that more than make up for its ostentatious appearance."

"Oh," Abbie drawled. "There's a dungeon isn't there? Or a creepy laboratory?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement even as Ichabod tried to muffle his laughter.

"The house has not yet given up all its secrets Lieutenant." He replied lightly as he leaned closer to her. "I'd be more than happy to-"

"Crane!" A blast of chilled air accompanied his friend's shout as Brom wrenched the door open.

Ichabod's warm gaze stayed on Abbie for a long moment before he turned his head towards his friend. The implication of his words had not been lost on her. The wide-eyed stare she gave him and those beautifully parted lips said as much. Abbie's expression shuttered immediately at the sound of Brom's voice. It was intolerable.

"Brom, I didn't expect you to still be up." Ichabod stated, hoping his irritation at the interruption was not obvious.

"Not likely while the police treat you like some common criminal," Abraham scoffed. He peered into the cabin and pinned her with his sapphire gaze.

"What right did you have to keep my friend?" he growled.

Abbie raised a brow to the man. Even if he was the town Adonis, she wasn't about to be harassed for doing her job.

"Professor Crane was not being held. He was good enough to provide a statement to us." She stated neutrally.

"If you coerced him into saying anything, you'll be sorry." He threatened. It took every bit of patience Abbie had to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Calm down Brom!" Ichabod thundered. "The Lieutenant has been most gracious and I'll not have you- insult her by insinuating otherwise!" He glared at Abraham when the other man tried to speak again, his long index finger held up in warning. Abraham's jaw clenched furiously, but he remained silent.

He turned back to Abbie with a rather harassed expression and an apologetic smile. "I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. It seems we are not the only ones that clearly need some rest."

"Don't worry about it. I won't get my panties in a bunch because of some hothead." Abbie replied drolly.

His cock twitched and his gut tightened as he imagined things that would get Lieutenant Abigail Mill's panties into a bunch. He cleared his throat, trying and failing to dislodge those wayward thoughts.

"I'd best get him inside." He said rather regretfully. " Once he goes on a tear, it takes a while to calm him down."

Abbie could full believe that with the way Van Brunt was staring daggers into her. "Yeah, you go help your friend chill out. I'll catch up with you later."

"Indeed Lieutenant, we shall see each other again soon."

Ichabod stood at the window of the study, hands behind his back as Brom continued unimpeded in his tirade against law enforcement, their underhanded methodologies and the attitude of arrogance they all seemed to have.

Ichabod was perfectly content to let Brom tire himself out. It would happen soon enough. Even in their days at Eton, Brom was a rather rash lad. He was quick to anger and liked to go on long dissertations about perceived evils and injustices. And laughingly, he was the most conceited person that Ichabod knew.

But Brom was an excellent friend. Good natured, keenly intelligent and outrageously comical. He had supported Ichabod's decision to join the Royal Marines when everyone else thought him mad. And it was Brom that encouraged a stubborn Ichabod to reconcile with his father.

So Ichabod was inclined to let him rant before offering a vague agreement and heading off to bed.

"And of all people to put in charge of anything, that crazy Mills bitch." Abraham spat.

"I beg your pardon." Ichabod rounded on Abraham, his artic tone matched by his stony gaze. "What did you just call her?"

"A crazy bitch. It's true," Abraham nodded for emphasis. "Her mother and sister were both in the psych ward, don't know how they missed rounding her up. I can't believe they put her on the police-"

"Brom." Ichabod interrupted. "If you ever speak of Lieutenant Mills in such a matter again, I'll forget that we're friends." His brow arched nearly to his hairline as he willed his friend to understand the weight of his words.

For the first time, Abraham noticed Ichabod's demeanor. He was rigid, his austere expression radiated indignation and anger.

"Sorry mate." Abraham said regretfully. "I didn't realize. You and the Lieutenant?" He asked incredulously. "You work fast."

"You are mistaken. There is no me and the Lieutenant." Yet, Ichabod thought to himself, but wisely did not say. "Nonetheless, I won't have her disparaged."

Abraham nodded. "Alright, I'll give you that. She's not the worst copper I've had to deal with. But seriously Ichabod, she's a bad seed. I don't say that to upset you," he continued even as Ichabod glared at him. "Just to warn you. What I say about her mother and sister are true, her father wasn't much better and even he abandoned them. Just because she was Corbin's pet project does not mean she can escape her fate. Tread carefully my friend."

"I've spent enough time in her company where I can assure you that she is a more than competent investigator and in full control of her faculties. And truly Brom, to describe her family history in such terms? If what you say is true, I would have thought you of all people being capable of compassion not scorn."

Abraham looked a bit ashamed, but Ichabod could not feel any sympathy toward him. He deserved worse than that for insulting his Abbie. In truth, and Ichabod had no reason to believe that Brom was lying, Brom should have admired her for her resilience in the face of such circumstances. Not for the first time, he found himself utterly peeved with his friend's opinions.

"I'm tired" Ichabod declared suddenly for the second time that morning. "I'm off to rest now. I'm afraid it's been a rather long day."

"Right." Brom replied absently. He congenially clapped Ichabod on the back as they headed toward the door. "Banish thoughts of murder, headless horseman and pretty Lieutenants. Sleep well my friend."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Abbie pulled up to her townhouse, she could barely keep her eyes open. Whatever excuses she had made to Crane be damned. She was fucking _tired_. She'd sleep for a couple of hours and head back to the station. There was still the matter of Reyes and their overdue conversation, an autopsy, and trying to find a marauding horse with a murderer for its rider.

She stifled another yawn as she unlocked her front door. It only gave slightly when she pushed it open. Frowning, she pushed harder and peeked through the opening. Nothing looked out of place, except for the clothing that trailed the living room and up the stairs.

She sighed heavily as she engaged the safety on her gun. "Jenny's home," she singsonged as she pushed the door harder so that she could slip into the opening.

The jeans blocking her entry were a lot bigger than her sister's. That would explain their effectiveness as a doorstop. She bent over to pick them up and continued picking up items until she got to the door of her sister's room and dropped everything in a heap in front of the door.

Abbie would refer to Jenny as a free spirit. She didn't dwell on what other people would call her. Jenny would describe herself as a renaissance woman and an artifacts collector. She frequently traveled in pursuit of lucrative and historically important objects.

Honestly, Abbie thought that was just criminal speak for drugs, but as always, she gave Jenny the benefit of the doubt. Jenny had Corbin's confidence, and that was good enough as far as Abbie was concerned.

Abbie automatically thought back to a time when she hadn't trusted Jenny's word and exactly what that had cost them. A sob caught in her throat and tears clouded her eyes as she leaned her head against Jenny's door.

_I could have lost her,_ Abbie thought despondently. For a time she had. It was years before Jenny would let Abbie see her after she had been institutionalized. Even more before Jenny had forgiven her and they had started the strained process of reconciliation.

The anxiety eased as she reminded herself that they were good now. Better than good. Their relationship had been tested, but not broken. Their love and sisterly bond that much stronger for the things they had lost separately and together.

It took Abbie a long moment to tamp down the emotions that had bubbled up. The reassurance that they both were alive and well. Jenny wasn't crazy, neither was Mama. And Jenny loved Abbie even if they didn't understand everything the other had said or done.

Most importantly, there was time. Time for Abbie to rest, time for her to spend with Jenny and make sure she was okay. It was something that even in her weary state, made Abbie smile. With nearly the last of her strength, she pushed off of her sister's door.

"I love you Jenny-bear. Welcome home." She whispered tiredly before turning to head to her own room and her own bed.

Abbie slept like the dead for the next 6 hours. A sound, dreamless sleep for the first time in months. The spectre of her former mentor had graciously left her in peace for once.

"Thank you old man," she whispered groggily. "I needed a break." She dolefully looked over at her bedside clock. The bright red digital displayed declaring afternoon solicited a groan.

_Up and at it Mills_, she mused. _You wanted to go back to work, so get to it. _

She tossed back her covers and trod into her bathroom. A nice hot shower would get her ready for what promised to be another long day. Abbie mentally compiled the day's to do list as she turned the shower on and pinned her hair. Her face split into a huge grin as she heard the knock at her door.

"Come in!" she called out.

Jenny burst through the bedroom door.

"Finally, I thought you were never gonna wake up!" she exclaimed as she came into the bathroom. Abbie had already slipped into the shower.

"Please, I've only been sleeping a couple of hours. Stahp…"

"Well, I've been waiting to see you since I got back in town last night." Jenny sounded a bit disgruntled. Abbie let out a loud laugh.

"Yeah, I could tell by the clothes all over the house. You were waiting for something, don't know if it was me."

"Shut up!" Jenny replied, trying to keep from laughing herself. "This last trip was a fucking nightmare. We were just trying to…release some tension." Abbie's knowing laughter brought a blush to Jenny's cheeks.

"I'm just glad to see you alive and in one piece. You are right? No missing fingers or toes?" Although Abbie couldn't see anything clearly out of her shower wall, she couldn't help but glance at her sister. Just because Jenny was the strongest person she knew, didn't mean she didn't worry about her.

"Yep, all my parts and in my right mind Abs," Jenny declared. "No worries." Even if all her limbs had been hacked off, she'd die before she admitted it to her older sister. Abbie was the strongest person Jenny knew, but she could only take so much. And the last couple of months had pushed her to the brink.

Jenny had been away at the time of Corbin's murder. She returned to Sleepy Hollow as soon as she could, but that was weeks after the funeral. Abbie was as stoic and practical as ever, methodically arranging and enduring the funeral alone. Seeing to everything, all by herself.

But there was a dullness in Abbie's eyes, which she hadn't seen since they were in foster care. That's what worried Jenny the most. When they were growing up, it had meant her straight and narrow sister veered off her path- wildly. Drinking, drugs, breaking and entering, running away. Things that Jenny never imagined her serious minded idol capable of.

It was enough of a concern to keep Jenny close to Abbie. She just needed to make sure that her big sister, the only mother she had ever known was going to be alright. That light would return to her eyes.

The best thing that happened was that prick Irving kicking her off the force. It gave Abbie a purpose, something to rally against, bring the fight back. So when the trip to South America to retrieve what was believed to be an ancient African spiritual artifact came up, Jenny could leave in good conscience.

"I'm happy to hear that, though I'd rather see for myself. Hand me my towel?" Abbie's command shook Jenny out of her mental reverie. She realized she was sitting on the towel. She lifted it and held it out as Abbie opened the shower door and stepped out.

"Thanks." Abbie wrapped herself securely. As she did, she took in her sister's appearance. Jenny was dressed in a tiny tank top and oversized boxers. She was glowing and indeed had all her fingers and toes.

"Well, aside from those hickeys, I'd say you're just fine." Abbie remarked glibly as she traced the offending marks on her sister's neck.

Jenny batted her hand away as her blush deepened. "Way to make things awkward Abs." she grumbled, more embarrassed than anything.

Abbie smiled warmly at her sister. "Not as awkward as picking up some random guy's underwear off my living room floor."

Jenny smiled madly as she shook her head. "He's not random. He's amazing and you owe him big time. He took care of your favoritest sister and got her back stateside in pristine condition."

Abbie rolled her eyes as her smile grew bigger. Jenny had fallen in love, crashed and burned hard with a big brute of a man who was absolutely crazy about her.

"Jenny Bean!" His deep baritone boomed throughout the townhouse. "Breakfast's on"

"See?" Jenny exclaimed. "And he's a damned good cook. Get dressed and come down. We'll tell you all about our trip."

Abbie moaned appreciatively as she savored the first bite of her crêpe. "Mmm..so good. You guys should give up trafficking and open up a food truck. You'd make a fortune."

Jenny, couldn't speak because her own mouth was full of crêpe. The man whose lapped she was currently cuddled on responded easily.

"Aww, I disagree Mills, I'm thinking this Yoruba amulet we picked up might make us a bit more than a food truck with a lot less work. Enough to buy Jenny-bean here some pretty things, right sweetness?"

Jenny's high pitched giggle as Hawley nuzzled her neck made Abbie happy and uncomfortable. That her sister had found love made her happier than words can say. The discomfort had little to do with the pair in front of her and more to do with what had been lacking in her own life.

There were rarely times that Abbie regretted her choices in life. The decision to take the fresh start that Corbin offered her had led to incredible opportunities and a life that Abbie could have never dreamed of as she and Jenny shuffled from one foster home to the other.

And there had been boys and boyfriends, but the kind of bond that came with true intimacy was something that Abbie had never felt. At some point everyone left, no matter how much they promised forever. Her dad, her mom, Corbin, even Jenny for a time.

Abbie learned the hard way that her heart was better off in her own keeping than others. But every once in a while, when she encountered true lovers like Jenny and Hawley, it made her wonder.

Would it be worth it to risk her heart for love? Was there anybody out there that could love someone as damaged as she? Would they be willing?

Suddenly, in brilliant Technicolor, the image of Professor Ichabod Crane came to her mind. He was smiling at her with the most of tender of expressions.

A tendril of warmth curled through her as she allowed her mind to wander. How would it really feel for him to look at her, only her in that way?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone that has taken the time to read this, it's really encouraging! A huge thank you to Uneange1 for being an amazing Beta! **

**The beginning of this chapter starts off with Abbie and her unresolved feelings about her mother. It could be triggering. Please take care. **

Sufficiently fed and rested, Abbie headed to the coroner's office to get her day started. She was not looking forward to this; it promised to stir up a sea of emotions that she kept under very strict control.

Abbie did not talk about her mother. Ever. Not to strangers, and especially not to the person responsible for her institutionalization. She didn't want to hear any apologies or regrets. If Reyes thought she was going to unburden her guilt by laying it at Abbie's feet, she was in for a big surprise.

Abbie had enough guilt of her own. Logically, she knew that she was just a child, far too young to understand her mother's increasingly disturbing behavior. She had yet to convince herself that there was nothing she could have done, nothing to have helped her mother cope with voices she heard or her constant fear that demons were trying to kill them.

She had tried everything her young mind could think of: good grades, staying out of trouble, taking care of Jenny, dutifully memorizing the entire Bible and the strange words her mother would utter as they huddled in fear in closets and rooms barred by furniture.

None of it mattered. Calm in the Mills household was invariably shattered by a new delusion, more voices, jarring mood swings.

In the end, all Abbie had been able to do was try to shield Jenny from the worst of her mother's behavior. Even that was a losing proposition.

_Eyes open, head up, trust no one. _

It was a ceaseless warning Lori Mills instilled into her daughters. They were her last words to her girls as they took her away to Tarrytown Psych.

The gut wrenching truth was it was growing up with Lori Mills as a mother that drove that message home clearly.

"Hello, Mills." Doctor Reyes smiled warmly as Abbie poked her head into the coroner's office.

"Afternoon, Reyes," Abbie replied neutrally. "That the prelim?" She motioned to the file in front of Reyes on her desk.

"Uh no." Reyes closed the file and placed it in her desk drawer. "Just some notes from another case." She plucked another folder from a tray and placed it in front of Abbie.

Abbie opened it and tried not to grit her teeth. Nothing new. Abbie wanted to throw it across the room.

"Same cause of death as the other victims. They were older men, but all relatively healthy. No trace evidence on the body. Hopefully forensics will be able to come up with something." Reyes stated.

"Yeah, let's hope so." Abbie echoed. "I need to get back to the station so if you have something to say, now's the time."

Reyes smiled kindly at the composed young woman in front of her. "You remind me so much of your mother…"

Abbie put her hand up. "I'm not sitting here trading sob stories about my mother."

If Reyes was surprised by the vehement statement, she hid it well. "I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant. You just do." Abbie rolled her eyes and looked off.

"I did what I thought was best at the time and even now, I still think it was for the best." Reyes interjected into the uncomfortable silence.

"Good for you." Abbie replied coldly.

"I'd hoped that you would grow to understand why I did it. I didn't expect for us to be friends, but I also didn't expect so much contempt," Reyes murmured sadly.

Abbie nodded as she processed that bit of information. "Yep, that pretty much sums it up," she agreed. This was a waste of her time and she had a lot to do.

"I get why you did it, I just can't forget that you did." Abbie conceded as she stood. "So sorry, not sorry that I can't be anything other than civil to you. You made your choice, Reyes. Now we both have to live with it."

Reyes stood as well, coming around her desk to stand in front of Abbie. "Mills, eventually you're going to have to deal with it, with me."

"Maybe. If and when that happens, I will. But today is not that day and I gotta go. Bye, Reyes." Abbie blew past her and headed out the door.

One dragon slayed, a couple of more to go.

Abbie's mood didn't improve any once she got to the station a few minutes later. Seeing Morales reminded her of the second task on her to-do list: chew him a new asshole. Especially because he was sitting at her desk, legs propped on it with a shit-eating grin.

"Outta my chair, Morales." Abbie ordered in lieu of a proper greeting.

"So rude, and here I was doing you a favor by dropping this off." He jerked his thumb behind him. Abbie peeked around him.

It was a bouquet, of sorts. Instead of flowers, cans of her favorite energy drink were the center of arrangement that also contained various flavored creamers, dipped spoons and tea.

She set the file she had brought with her on the desk while jabbing Luke sharply in the side.

"Ow!" he whined as he moved out of her way. "So who's this from, I wonder?" Abbie snagged the card that had come with the arrangement before he could reach it.

"That's no fun. What's the big deal, who sent them?" He looked at her, his gaze bright with curiosity.

"No big deal, it's just my business and not yours. Have you done any work today or were you just lurking around waiting for me?"

Luke snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Mills. Luke Morales don't wait around for chicks. I really did just bring this thing to your desk. It was too heavy for Wanda."

Abbie looked at the gift on her desk for another moment, a slight smile playing about her lips. She could just about guess who it was from. And even though she was dying to read the card, this wasn't the time or place. She refocused on the business at hand—Morales.

"Well thanks, I appreciate it. Take a walk with me." She said mildly as she gave him her most professional smile. Luke might be a complete asshole most of the time, but she didn't want to embarrass him in front of the others by berating him publicly. That wasn't her style.

They walked down the hallway until they got to a vacant office. She opened the door and turned on the light. Luke simply stood in the hall with his eyebrows raised.

"We need to talk." Abbie pulled out the chair he should sit in. In typical Luke fashion, he chose the opposite one. Abbie closed the door and then sat across from him.

"What do you want?"

Abbie pointed towards him. "That right there is what I want to talk about. Even before I left, you were acting like this, now it's just outright disrespect."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Luke gritted out.

"Yeah, you do— the snide comments, taking your time obeying or just blatantly disregarding my orders. I'm not gonna have it. So you can either spit out what's been bothering you or we can see about transferring you over to Tarrytown, maybe in Westchester."

"You serious?" Luke asked her, his brown eyes wide in disbelief.

"Hell yes! I can't have you undermining my authority by making everyone think it's ok to disrespect me. I'm not gonna pretend that I don't know it's hard. I never expected to be the Lieutenant, but that's my job. You'll either help me do it or you gotta go." Abbie gaze was unblinking.

"You'd do that Abbie, just transfer me like it's nothing?" Luke ran his hands through his hair. "Fuck Abbie, I guess I just don't mean shit to you!" He exploded out of the chair. "First, you break things off 'cause you want to go work at the FBI. Fine, I get that. Neither of us wanted a long-distance relationship. But then, when you decide to stay, what happened? Nothing. No calls, no us." He glared down at her. "If you decided to stay, why the fuck aren't we still together?"

Abbie let out a long sigh as she silently prayed for patience. "Things weren't gonna work between us. There wasn't any point of rehashing it."

Luke knelt next to her, the earnest look on his face tugged at her heartstrings. "It could have. You just didn't give it a chance. You never did."

He wasn't wrong. Their relationship hadn't been bad, but she just wanted more. More than to be someone's girlfriend by default, just because there was proximity and opportunity.

Abbie placed her hand on Luke's. "I should have been upfront about why I wanted to break up. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings. When you're not busy trying to be a total asshole, you really are sweet. And having to give a nice guy the whole 'it's not you it's me' routine sucks. I just really wasn't ready for a relationship." She looked into his eyes, hoping he could see the truth in them.

Luke's smile was slow, but genuine. "So you think I'm a nice guy, huh?"

Abbie laughed and shook her head. "Of course you skip all the important stuff and cling to the one good thing I said about you."

Luke laughed too. "Hey, I need something to help my poor ego." It felt good to finally get what had been eating away at him since they broke up off his chest.

He knew that she was damaged goods going into the relationship, so he expected there would be some choppy waters. What he did not expect was her lack of regard for their relationship. She treated it and him like everything else in her life — something to check off her to-do list.

It wasn't that she was a bad girlfriend. Not at all. She was considerate, with her time, gestures and gifts. And a giving lover. It just always came off as an obligation rather than something she really wanted to do so her confession went a long way in soothing his hurt feelings.

"So we're good, right?" Abbie asked. Luke squeezed her tiny hand before releasing it and standing up.

"Yep, we're cool." Luke confirmed. "Anything else?"

As relieved as Abbie was they had finally turned a page, she knew she wouldn't be doing him any favors by ignoring his interaction with Crane.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Last night, you and the Professor." Luke scoffed, but Abbie pressed forward.

"He learned more from you than you did from him. And that interview was sloppy. Not your best work."

Luke sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped a bit.

"Glad to see you get where I'm going. Don't let it happen again. Get me phone records for Reverend Knapp. We need to know if he was in contact with Corbin and Lancaster."

"Yes, ma'am," Luke nodded as he headed out the door.

This rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful. She set the whiteboard up with all the information they had on Corbin, Dr. Lancaster and the Reverend. Abbie had hoped that seeing everything laid out would give her a fresh perspective, or she would find something she had overlooked. No such luck. Still, she wasn't entirely without hope.

If the murderer held to his pattern, there were a few more weeks before he would claim the next victim— time she could use to develop a profile that would get them headed in the right direction.

The perp knew the victims. The victims knew each other. Something linked them all together. What was it?

All white male victims killed outside their homes during a full moon. No defensive wounds or trace evidence on the bodies. The murderer takes the head with him.

A single white male, between 30-45 years old, known to the victims. He was from the area and was a person of means.

His sole intent was execution, the heads collected as trophies.

She was jotting down some things to follow up on in her notebook when Brooks came in. She spared him a quick glance before she turned her attention back to her notebook. Brooks made a beeline for her.

"Hey, Lieutenant." His face flushed with the pleasure of seeing her.

"What's up, Brooks? What did you find out about the horse?" Abbie asked absently, still intent on her own notes.

"Well, I checked with all the horse farms in a thirty mile vicinity. None of them own or board a black stallion that matches the suspect's."

Abbie tilted her head, her face screwed up in confusion. "How do we know the horse is a stallion and a black one at that?"

"What?" Andy asked stupidly.

"You said the stallion was black. How do we know that?" She said slowly, her frown becoming more pronounced.

"Uh… uh..." Andy stammered, his eyes darting back and forth. Abbie pursed her lips and raised her brows.

"Forensics identified some hair at the scene. And a horse with a stride that big, I just figured it was a male." He finished lamely.

"Mm-hmm." Abbie murmured, eying Andy curiously. "Well, thanks for checking anyways. We'll just have to track this horse down from a different angle. Do me a favor and get me the info about the horse. I didn't see it with the rest of the evidence."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant. I'll get on it right now." Andy looked visibly relieved as he shuffled past her. Abbie turned to watch him walk away.

Now what was that about? Abbie wondered. Forensics found hair? Like hell they had. Abbie didn't doubt for a second that the horse they were looking for was indeed a black stallion. So why did Brooks lie about where he got the information from?


End file.
